“Billie, did I catch you at a bad time?” Tony’s voice was smooth like hot fudge.
“No, you’re saving me from a yoga session.” I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
“Dr. Kimball will see you tomorrow morning at nine. I’ll text you the directions from your place to her office.”
“Oh, uh, you made an appointment for me?” I had assumed Tony would question me about my problems and the reason for them. I had spent two hours trying to find the balance for how much I could tell him.
“She’s helped me, so I thought …”
I heard his confusion, pictured him frowning at the phone. He’d gone to all this bother for me, and now I was backpedaling? “It’s really nice of you, Tony. I’m... I’m not used…” I took a deeper breath. “It’s been a while since people have done nice things for me—I mean, not out of pity, but because they’re compassionate.” Jeez, it’s probably a major faux pas to tell a badass that he’s being kind.
“I hate to hear that it’s been like that for you. I was lucky. I had my family around me and then Zoe.”
I felt a little better because I didn’t hear any awkwardness in his voice. “That was nice for you.”
“Billie, talk to Nat, Dr. Kimball, and when you get to know us better, and you’re ready, tell us what happened. Believe in us, and I’m including my wife, Layla, and Forde. We won’t judge or pity you. We’ll just help anyway we can.”
I tried to imagine confessing everything to all those people, but I couldn’t. Not yet. However, I appreciated his sincerity. “Okay, Tony, I’ll start with meeting Dr. Kimball tomorrow.”
“And then, you’ll call Forde and come in for that final interview,” he said, a teasing note in his voice.
“Trying to run my life, are you?” I made sure that my tone was light also.
He chuckled. “Nope, just giving you good advice.”
“I’ll have to tell him, won’t I?” I knew the answer. Forde had gone easy on me during lunch, but I knew that ultimately he’d want to know everything about the person he’d hired.
“Yeah.” I heard him sigh.
I bit my lip and tried to muster my courage. Just ask. “Could you, I mean, would you be there for the interview?”
“Not part of my job description, sweetheart, but I’ll ask. Okay?”
“Thank you.” I heard the wobble in my voice.
“You call me if you need a ride tomorrow or anything.”
“Thank you for everything. I mean it.”
“Billie, part of the journey is opening yourself up to let others in. I promise it’ll be for the best.”
The phone went dead.
“Weeellll, I guess that’s that,” I said out loud.
I dropped my purse onto the table by my front door after throwing the locks and setting the alarm. I freakin’ loved Dr. Kimball. She hadn’t looked down her little half glasses at me as my therapist had in Denver and asked me endless, toneless questions. No, Dr. Kimball had been as warm as her office that was filled with sunshine and brightly colored art and pillows. She had a loud laugh, and she used her hands when she talked. She was a burst of positive energy, and even though I knew we would talk about painful things, I was going to get better with her guidance. I just knew it.
She wanted to see me every Tuesday at four, and then I was encouraged, which meant she gently pushed me, to attend the group meeting on Thursday. I wasn’t sure how I felt about a group setting, but I’d promised to try.
God, I owed Tony a steak dinner. Hell, I owed him a year of steak dinners. Okay, I was getting a little out of control, but feeling hopeful was something I treasured now.
I dropped onto my sofa, kicked off my shoes, and picked up my phone, scrolling through my phone book until I saw Forde Limited. My finger hovered over the name, and then I tapped it.
Taking the next big step, I waited for Layla to answer.
“Forde Limited.”
She sounded so official. “Hi, Layla, it’s Billie.”
“Hey chick, what’s shaking?”
The officialness was gone. “Is Forde available by any chance?” I asked while I was still riding my high.
“Are you going to take the job?” She sounded excited.
“I’m going to interview for it,” I corrected.
“He likes you; you’ll get the job.”
I shook my head. This was a different kind of interview process where the person that I was replacing was already telling me the outcome.
“And yes, he’s free. I’m going to put you on hold for a moment.”
I listened to Chopin or maybe it was Bach—whatever was playing sounded classy and was calming.
“Billie, I’m glad you called,” Forde said, sounding confident, but still friendly. “Have you thought about the position?”
“I have, and I’m very interested.” I knew I sounded breathy and nervous.
“Good. Do you have time tomorrow?”
“Yes, my day is open.” That probably sounded a little desperate and sad.
“Let’s say two-thirty. Will that work?”
“I’ll be there.” I swallowed loudly. “Uhm, Mr. Forde…I need to tell you something. Before I meet with you, there are some things you need to know about me.”
“Go on,” his tone was now more cautious.
I drew a steadying voice. “I legally changed my name last year to Wilhelmina James, but I was born Bilan Wainright in Brentwood, California. What you need to look at is Tampa Florida, July eighth, two years ago. You can share that information with Tony, but I haven’t…” I had to stop to take a breath. “I’m not ready to talk about it. Nobody here knows. Well, except my therapist,” I added quickly. My voice went soft. “I see a doctor for the P.T.S.D. I’m, uh, I’m trying to get better.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. And I worried that he’d think the last thing he needed to hire to answer his phones was a nutjob.
There was silence for a few beats, and I could feel my heart pounding.
“I appreciate you trust me with this, your past,” his voice rumbled. “I won’t share anything that I read except as you’ve directed. You have my word.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking.
“When you’re ready to share, we’ll be there for you. I’m a pretty good judge of people, and Billie, I think you’re a good person.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Forde.” I did the badass thing—I clicked off first.
I liked my new friends, and it felt great to know they were there to help. I just hoped my past wouldn’t sour my chances of scoring this job. I really wanted to be part of Forde Limited, wanted to join that extended family, feel protected by their warmth and the capable men.
I pulled into the garage, and this time I turned to go down to the basement, tenant-only parking. Forde had given me the code to get the gate to rise. I tried not to tap my fingers on the steering wheel. I’d been blasting Alice in Chains’ “Man in a Box.” Last night, I’d broken down and taken a sleeping pill. I hated to do it, but I also needed to sleep. At some point in the night, I had convinced myself I’d be able to tell within five seconds of seeing Forde and Tony whether anything had changed. One of the promises I’d made to myself when I’d decided to move was that I couldn’t be around pity. Sure, something bad had happened to me, but that wasn’t my doing. I endured and survived. I didn’t want to be a victim, and I prayed for the day when I wouldn’t think about everything that had happened to me and let it alter my choices and my life.
The day before, I’d told Dr. Kimball this, and she’d paused and looked me straight in the eye. “You’re a warrior.” Then she’d chuckled. “You appear so soft, but deep inside you’re going to take on the world.”
“Well, not the world,” I admitted. “I just want to be able to function.”
“We can work on coping strategies, and through counseling and medicine, I think we can make things better.”
“I don’t want pills,” I’d said, my voice getting louder, because I
’d wanted her to know how firmly against this I was. “I hate how they make me feel.” I’d spent the first six months after in a zombie state. I’d been so numb I couldn’t work through any complex thoughts. I’d felt like a five year old.
“I will make a note of your refusal and dislike of pharmaceutical intervention,” she’d said, using a soothing voice.
“The thing is, I don’t want to settle for better. I want the best life possible.” I’d sounded petulant, and I’d even lifted my chin a little. “I deserve it. That’s why I’ll work really hard for it.”
“Billie, I’m on your side. I think it’s positive that you want the best for yourself. You’ve said nothing to demonstrate that your standards are skewed. You haven’t decided to be an Olympic gymnast with no training—now, that would be concerning.”
“Not to mention that I’m a little large for tumbling,” I’d teased.
“But if you wanted to take a class, that would be fine.” Dr. Kimball’s eyes twinkled as she smiled at me.
“Nah, I think handsprings and the splits are in the past. I’m considering a martial arts class. I tried to do yoga, and I’m still sore today.” I loved that during the session I could talk about regular life things.
I shook my head at how many plans I’d made.
I parked in one of the three vacant Limited spots and turned off my car. I grabbed my handbag and climbed out. I stood and scanned the area, and then hurried to the elevator. Once in the lobby, I followed the signs to the Ladies. There I washed my hands and checked my appearance in the mirror.
Today, I’d dressed more business-like in a black cotton sweater that had a pink ribbon running through the waist to create a belt that I tied in a bow on my left side. It ended in a peplum hem that I loved. I’d paired it with a modified pencil skirt in a light tweed material that was made up of black, gray, and a tiny bit of pink. I’d added a pair of black pumps to complete the look. The first thing I’m going to do after I land this job is lose these Spanx. They helped smooth my generous thighs, and the skirt did hang better, but dammit, I hated feeling constricted. I took one last look then turned to go.
Layla must have been studying the surveillance screens, because I heard the lock disengage as I approached the entrance to Limited. When I walked in, I noticed she wasn’t alone. There was a large African American man sitting in the chair across from her desk.
I hoped my voice didn’t shake. “Hi.”
“You look amazing,” my friend told me. She was looking me up and down.
“Thank you,” I answered shyly.
The man’s long legs were stretched out in front of him, and his arms were crossed over his chest. I nodded a greeting, and then I left an empty seat in between us.
Layla pointed to the man. “Billie, this is Rick. Rick, this is Billie.” She pointed back and forth between us.
“I’m going to call you Trouble. A woman that looks like you, here,” one side of his mouth lifted, “it’s going to be pure trouble.” Then he laughed, and his eyes sparkled.
I loved his laugh. It was deep and melodic, like a R &B singer’s should be. I gave him my innocent look, “Not me, I don’t cause trouble.”
“Rick, don’t say that. I want her to work here,” Layla chided.
“One thing’s for sure, you won’t have any trouble gettin’ us to come in.” He continued to chuckle.
Layla gave me an apologetic look. “He may be right. Plus, all of the guys from Tye’s office. Oh my, we might need more chairs.” Then she giggled.
I bit my lip. I didn’t know what to say. I was never the type to draw attention to myself, but in the past, if I was interested, and if a man seemed to be as well, I would flirt. Now, I wasn’t sure that I could.
The phone on her desk rang. “Yes? Sure.” Layla put the receiver back in place and looked at me. “Ready?”
I stood and smoothed my skirt. “Yes.”
Rick stood also. “I’ll take you back.” He motioned for me to head toward the door.
“You’ll do great.” Layla gave me a huge smile and a nod of encouragement.
I stared straight ahead as Rick punched in the code. I turned the handle and opened the door. I felt him behind me, not that he was standing too close. It was more like I sensed his energy. He was a man always ready for action.
“Straight ahead, only door on your right,” he said, lowering his voice. “Layla likes you, and Forde wants to hire you. Just be honest. If you lie in here, you won’t be invited back. That goes for any kind of connection to Layla or Zoe.”
“I don’t want to lie.” I just didn’t want to discuss the past. I took in as much oxygen as I could and squared my shoulders.
His smile made him gorgeous. “Then knock ’em dead, Miss I’m-not-going-to-cause-any-trouble.”
I paused outside of Forde’s door. “I’m quiet and low maintenance.”
He shook his head. “We’ll see.” He knocked once loudly on the doorframe. “Boss? She’s here.”
I heard movement as I stepped in the doorway. Tony was standing beside the desk as Forde walked toward me. “Come in.”
I did, and I heard Forde close the door behind me.
Tony motioned toward the chair in front of Forde’s desk, “Grab a chair.”
I sat and smoothed my skirt.
“Thanks for emailing your resume this morning. That took care of the first portion of this process.” Forde made his way back to the chair behind his huge desk. Tony took the seat to Forde’s left.
He was giving me time to get my bearings. Then we would talk about my past. I sensed that Forde was trying to figure out the best approach.
“So, you still want to stick with the librarian thing?” Tony asked.
“I don’t know.” I glanced at Forde, who was watching me intently. “I’ve put in a lot of years, but I’m not sure whether there’s not something else that I want to do more.”
“You should have a passion, B,” Tony said with some heat. “After everything, you should do what you want.”
I could see the emotion on his face. It was heartache, not pity. I relaxed a little and confided. “I’m not sure what I want to do, except get better.”
Tony leaned forward. “That can be a job in itself.”
I nodded once.
“I think that being here, with us, would be a good fit for you.” Forde’s voice seemed a little harsh.
I gave him my full attention. His eyes were flashing with fury. “Why?” I whispered. Anger was coming off of him. I could almost see it.
“Because, while you’re within these office walls, you’ll be safe. You don’t have to worry about that here, with us.” He leaned back into his chair in a jerky movement.
I needed to swallow the rock in my throat. “That would be good.” I felt my eyes fill with tears. I blinked several times trying to clear them.
“We read about what happened,” Forde started. “All of it.”
“Gotta say, the way you got out, pretty ingenious,” Tony said, I heard the approval in his voice.
“It was the first opportunity I had to escape. I was worried it would be the only one,” I said, trying not to remember the way the room smelled and the feeling of the rubber sheet against my skin.
“Smart.” Forde nodded once. “A fighter.”
“I’m seeing a therapist,” I blurted. I rolled my eyes at myself, so much for the calm and cool discussion. “The P.T.S.D., I’m trying to get a handle on it. So I go to the therapist twice a week.” I moistened my lips. “Is that going to be a problem?” I really wanted to work here and for these people to want me around.
“We can accommodate your schedule, Billie.” Forde’s voice was no longer as scary.
“I can tell you the identifiable triggers, if you want...” I laced my fingers so that my hands wouldn’t shake so badly.
“I’d like to know, but only if you’re comfortable sharing,” Forde said.
I knew right then that he was a man of honor. He wanted to protect me. “You both
should probably know. In case something should happen. Tony saw it the other night.” I paused, and when I resumed my voice was stronger. “Right now, parking lots at groceries, box stores—I just can’t do. Going out in the dark is getting easier, but it still makes me nervous. Plus, people that crowd me—you know, asking too many questions or getting too close and touching me—I get tense and, sometimes, that leads to panic.” I sighed and blew my bangs upward. “Those are the main ones, and then, sometimes, I can’t sleep. I might come in looking a little rough.” I looked at the two men.
Tony nodded. “Those make sense.”
Forde’s expression was thoughtful. “You know the brain works in strange ways. I don’t know if anybody will ever figure it out, but I’m happy to hear you’re getting help.” He leaned forward in his chair once again. “This is what we were thinking—you’ll start Monday. Lay will spend one or two weeks training. I need you at the desk by nine, and you can go around four. If we have a late appointment, I might ask you to stay until they arrive. We don’t open the door to anyone unless they have an appointment, you know them, or you get my, or one of the guys, approval.”
That made sense and made me feel safe. “Okay.”
“I don’t do hourly. I’ll start you at this a week.” He shoved a yellow pad at me across his desktop.
It was a very generous salary. I felt my eyes get big.
“After ninety days, we’ll up it if you still want to be here. I’m not sure of Layla’s plans,” Forde continued.
“You mean that you have a plan, and she doesn’t agree with it,” Tony said, smirking.
Forde smiled. “True. If you need time off, ask. We can make things work unless it becomes excessive.”
“I don’t have anything planned.” I didn’t want to have a talk about “excessive” with Forde the boss.
“Anybody gives you any problems, you tell us,” Tony urged. “They get in your space or bother you, say something. We’ll handle it.”
I nodded.
“If you need a ride somewhere, text the communication number. If you’re out and it gets too dark, or you aren’t, uhm, feeling one hundred per cent, you call or text,” Forde said. “No explanation needed. One of us will pick you up.”
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